Baby Makes Three
by Slittlej
Summary: With their marriage on very shaky ground, will a baby pave the way for stability? If Don't track record is any indication, you decide.


Megan takes a good, long time before actually heading to the phone. Maybe calling right now isn't what she should do. She's only performed home pregnancy tests, 6 of them to be exact. She could do one more and if it's positive too, she'll think seriously about seeing her doctor. Don and she parents? The idea knocks her down, steals her breath. She knows she is, but she picks up the phone anyway, dials the number and waits. She'll give up smoking, not that she is a heavy smoker anyway.

"Yes, hi. I'd like to make an appointment..."

His schedule light, her doctor could see her today. She's penciled in for one o'clock, right after Dr. Smythlin returns from lunch. En route, while driving on the Freeway, she mentally wades through names. Lucille, Antonia, Nancy, Sophia, if it's a girl. Philip, Alexander, Julian, or Gabriel if it's a boy. None of these names have any kinship with family members, a fresh start for a new life. Megan smiles, half-closing her eyes, but abruptly reprimands herself. She's driving in the fast lane surrounded by scores of other cars. One slip, and she-and the baby-might wind up as fatalities. She arrives at the doctor's office safe and sound, checks in and waits her turn. The waiting isn't so bad, it's the suspense...

Two hours later, following the visit, she's back home, staring at the phone again. This time with confirmation. She is five weeks gone, in excellent health and confounded. She's with child, Don's, and the world is closing in on her. Motherhood means a beginning, but it might also mean an ending. Her brow furrows, the ridges in her forehead pronounced. Having a baby is a blessed event, but Megan resists the sentimentality. Ambiguity descends as she considers what this could mean for her aspirations, hopes and dreams. The state of hers and Don's marriage is catastrophic. The T.V. term, its use growing in popularity, foreshadowing a show's downhill slide into oblivion, pops into Megan's head. When had their relationship 'jumped the shark?'

As she continues to barrage the phone with contrary eyes, Megan accepts that she has decisions to make. Very weighty ones. Should she call Don, tell him about this development? Does she want to stay married? Is being a single parent what she wants? Is putting the baby up for adoption the way to go? Terminating the pregnancy is certainly _not_ the way. Despite the bombastic talk and rhetoric about a woman's choice, she could never snuff out the life growing inside her. This little one hadn't chosen an egotistical lothario as its father; she had. Back then, she hadn't known Don Draper's daunting reputation.

The more Megan stares at the phone, the more she distances herself from it, as though it were deadly plague. "I'll wait a few days," she mutters, feeling more settled within herself. "He's most likely in a meeting right now anyway. Or...in a hotel room with anyone in a skirt." She narrows her eyes, reproaching the part of her that still loves him in its own twisted way. "No. I won't call now. Not now. I might nev-"

The phone heedlessly rings, jangling her out of her cauldron of mixed emotions. She thinks it could be her new agent, who promised he'd get her a 'featured' role on a new sitcom. The phone is ringing off the hook; won't stop. As though coming to life, Megan hurries to answer it.

"Hello."

"Hey, Megan, it's me."

She startles. It's not Max Kneller, her agent. It's Don, her womanizer. "Hi-hi," she falters.

"Are you?" he pokes, because she sounds off, like she's had too much to drink, a habit she has acquired.

"No," Megan puts to him, adamantly.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong."

Smugly, he insinuates, "Are you sure?"

Megan crosses her eyes, thinking how typical he sounds when he's so sure he's right. "I'm positive." She hears how saturated with innuendo that sounds.

"Okay. Just checking. I'm coming out."

He sounds so proud of himself, she considers, wishing he hadn't said he'll be seeing her. She thought she'd made it crystal clear that they are over. "T-that's wonderful, Don," she lies, hating herself for the accomplished liar he's made her, another acquired bad habit. "When?"

"End of the week. On Friday, afternoon. I've got a four-thirty flight."

"Great." She rolls her eyes, sticking out her tongue. "I'll pick you up."

"I can get a cab."

"No, no I'll get you. If anything comes up, I'll let you know." She hears him sigh softly, all wavy, and she does too, not as softly, through the receiver.

"Good. I'll see you soon." She hears him hesitate, then he assures, "Love you."

She can't bring herself to say she loves him back. She tries not to cringe. "I know. It'll be great seeing you."

They hang up at about the same time and Megan collapses on the two-seat sofa and huffs, "Wish I could say the same. The way I could say it when I really was _in love_ with you."


End file.
